my brother the migragory goose and me, the hibernating seattlite with my hand on the snooze button

"i know i suck, i just can't hear it." my tone deaf brother said these words to me about his singing ability - or lack there of. he know's he's bad and in truth, he is aweful. he takes "bad" to new soaring heights. still, he can't hear what he knows to be true.

i laughed at my brother. it is a silly plight and something that doesn't matter all that much. but, i laughed so lightly in part because we are now members of different worshipping communities. i no longer have to attempt to sing a chorus or hymn while standing next to him. God love the boy, no matter how bad he is, he always belts out some off key (and off melody and off rhythm) tune. i can hear it and hear, in his heart, that "sweet sweet sound" he squawks his request for God to hear. however, the pain comes in my inability to sing. standing next to jake, suddenly, he is so aweful that i have a difficult time trying to stay of key (or rhythm, or melody - or even harmony for that matter). i can laugh lightly with him now, but a few years ago, i would have said, "yep. yep, you really can't hear yourself." and would have ground my teeth thinking, "so maybe you should just sing a quieter so no one else has to hear you either!"

but now, i laugh.

this seems to speak to community. when a member of a community cannot hold a tune - it is not the single member who sings off key - it is everyone. so then, what do we do with our ears that hear what our community members cannot? do we wish they would stop, or do we play the role of a gentle tuning fork?

further, the truth is that none of us have perfect pitch. we're all belting out off-key tones saying, "i think it's this." together we sound like a flock of migratory geese heralding the morning before it's actually arrived. we are annoying. we are painful to hear. others deeply desire to end our misery...but, in truth, it's not misery. we herald the breaking dawn - whether it's broken or not - it will come. whether we are on key or have any rhythm at all, the world looks and listens. people roll over in bed and prepare for the first of many snooze-button taps before they are finally roused.

in short, though my brother sounds like a dying goose and though christian community is annoying and appears crazy to the world around us, we both worship and praise the coming dawn of a world where our squawking becomes melodious and where the bright light of the broken dawn thaws the harsh, frozen, barren, wintery world.

sing on jake - and pardon me if i keep hitting the snooze button. i'll sing with you again some great day! then we will hurt the ears of th world as we joyfully struggle toward the right key.

merry tristmas to all

i think that evangelicalism might just be palitable if it didn't enlist us in such a strict world of us versus them. it's tempting to say that fundamentalism's downfall is it's legalistic moralism - something to be confronted for sure - but legalistic moralism often looks at life and sees that we are all in danger of falling into some irreversible sin. legalistic moralism sees the danger for all people. it's not about categorizing and labeling so that "we" are safe here and "they" are across some line of judgment.

i remember a christmas story i was told at sunday school:

there once was a rich man named tristian. tristian decided that every year on his birthday, he'd invite a new person to share in his wealth. each year, he did just that. and each year, he invited everyone who had come before as they celebrated a day that became known as "tristmas." everyone who had been invited to this great celebration was called a "tristian" and all tristians were invited every year.

after time, the population became jealous and began celebrating the day themselves. the malls became crowded with people buying gifts - people who had never even met Tristian.

one day, a tristian stopped a woman at the mall, who he did not recognize as a fellow tristian. he said to the woman, "why are you celebrating tristmas if you are not a tristian?"

that's where the story ended.

the man was a hero. the woman was a fool. the alegory was violently obvious, as we were the lucky tristians. the rest of the world was just jealous because they had not been invited.

really? is this really what was born 2000 years ago in a stable? is this the great hope of the world? is this the legacy of the jesus who wept over the world? maybe the story should continue:

just then, Tristian himself walked by. with unparalleled love, he looked deep into the eyes of the shamed woman and said to her, "merry Tristmas friend." he then looked at the puffed up tristian and said, "look, the world has seen and recieved my love and generosity without even meeting me - yet you claim my name, you dine with me every year, you have been lavished upon - and you have not love for others?" as Tristian looked at the man, he didn't judge him - he was only sad. he knew, his loving, generous experiment was not working.

that year, at the Tristmas feast, he announced: "you are all Tristians. you have all been generously blessed. i love each of you - but the love and generosity i have given you here in this room is a pale shadow to what i wish for you, and for all the people of the world.

"look at the world around you. they are celebrating Tristmas. they are giving and recieving. they are feasting together. they are finding hope and joy in this day - even if they have not ever met me, seen my wealth, or felt the hospitible welcome of my mansion.

"for a time - for some unsaid number of years - we will no longer meet here every year. i want for all of you to join your fellow-humanity in the generosity and blessing of the day. join them and further invite them into this generosity. see them all as tristians, touched by my generosity and giving in response. love them and learn from them as you also are loved and taught by them.

"in time, you will all recieve your invitations back to my mansion and we - as well as all those you have dined with and all those who know my generosity - will join together to feast at Tristmas."

a confused woman said, "but, if we treat everyone who celebrates your generosity as a Tristian, we won't be special anymore. everyone will become a tristian. this is our special day in the year - can't we keep it set apart from the rest of the world?"

a man spoke up as well, "your mansion, big as it is, cannot fit that many. it's not meant for everyone, only a select few!"

Tristian stood tall, compassionate, yet firm as his voice strongly rebuked the prideful two. first he spoke to the woman: "sister, this day is indeed special. it is like no other. does it not become all the more special when even those who have not met me feel some seed of incontainable generosity in their hearts? are such people not worthy to be one of us?"

Tristian then spoke to the man, "brother, how little you know my mansion after all these years. have you explored its every room, every garden, every table? there is ceaseless room in my mansion. it may look limited, but when love and charity knock, the walls ever expand - extending hospitality to each one that seeks to join the feast.

"brothers and sisters," he continued, opening his large, loving arms to all his festivly gathered friends, "as i said before, beautiful as this yearly feast here in my home is, it is a pale shadow of all that i wish. i wish for the you to all give and recieve as freely as i have with you. moreover, i wish for the whole world to give and recieve in that way, and for you, as my friends and ambassadors, to invite the world into this way of giving on this joyous day.

"now raise your glasses with me and let us drink, sweet friends, to the tristmas feast - here in this room, next door, in the homeless shelter, in the widow's lonely studio apartment and in every space that it is celebrated."

like in the story of the grinch, seeing their mentor's love to liberally spread throughout the room and even beyond it's boundaries, the closed-hearted tristians' hearts all grew three sizes, bursting with new generosity. finally seeing what Tristmas really was, they all heartily raised their glasses and exclaimed, "TO TRISTMAS!"

art show

brief update:
The art show opening was well attended. the poetry and music were beautiful. too many people thought that asking for admission was asking too much - those people kind of made me mad...but, such is american privialged life. we made about $1,000 for invisible children.

2 of jen's photos sold
2 or bryan's sold
1 of tucker's pieces - the one he made specially for the show sold

a number of other pieces are being mulled over and will probably sell at some point during the 3 month stay.

random people from mountlake terrace and from the conservative church where the show is taking place keep happening in for a peak and come away with a new experience of art and a knew knowledge about the world...a very encouraging result!

we're planning to have another show like saturday's, with poetry and music, near valentine's day.

don't forget that our special closing event will be hosted by invisible children and will take place on march 10th.

the down side of things:
spending a day in the church that i used to intern at - the place that was my spiritual home - the place i pined after when i moved away - rotted my stomach. that church lives staunchly in the us/them world. many many times in the last week i fought back tears in the face of such close minded lack of compassion.

how do i have compassion for them?
how do i not end up in a different us/them world?
how do i walk with them toward compassion?
what does it look like to be curious about their lack of curiosity?
am i ready to walk back into this world that hurt me so much, or is this a premature stent?

i am beginning my month vacation with a ton of inner questioning and uncertainty.

SIDS, judgement, and a bad day

Tears that fall like winter rain in Seattle
Slow
Bitter
Constant –
Making you turn frigid and brittle in their soul-draining shadow
Of grey clouds and impenetrable blankets
Smothering a small child who just wishes she could breath
But has not the power to free herself
She slowly suffocates and is claimed by SIDS –
Like too many infants who
May have shined one day – who
May have danced – who
May have changed the world and made it into something



Bright.

Such tears are void to hope
To stretch
To create a world – In which
You and I sit together - In which
You and I share a meal – In which
I could dare to bring myself
To you
In which you might strain to truly see me

You report her sinful world
You report your anger
You report her – beautiful her –
Broken honesty as
Sin
Full

It is indeed dark and no child can breathe
Beneath the shadow of your heavy world
Beneath your misplaced anger
Beneath your – stifling your –
Broken hiding as
Sin
Less

art show

Remember to come to the art show!!!!!

also, here's a treat:

more on manger art

thanks to generous artists such as phil nellis, tucker fitzgerald, jen grabarczyk, jessi knippel, scott erickson, john powless, byran nixon and a host of others who are either not confirmed or not my particular contacts, this year's art show should be really amazing!!! i am truly blown away by the artwork we've gotten in the last few days.

i strongly encourage you all to attend the opening and bring your check book and Christmas buying list! invite friends ! it is looking to be a great event!

Praise the miraculous God of recolcilliation!

The controversial mars hill protest has been called off. for the most happy of reasons: reconcilliation!

Mark Driscoll and several local pastors met and had an open, honest dialogue. Apparently, Mark even humbly listened and recieved from female pastors!

Anyway, here's two links: mark's blog, and paul's post. Read these and join me in utter amazement, worship, and awe of our reconciling God!

Note: Mark's change in language does not change my fear of his leadership in Seattle. It was not the diminuitive words he used that caused friends at SPU to consider dropping out because they were "wasting [their] future husband's money" when they weren't even yet acquainted with whoever this future husband might be. It was not Mark's strong language alone that cause a close friend of mine to leave Mars Hill with a fear and hesitancy towad church. It was not the words he chooses that made this same friend stunned when, for the first time in two years of attendence, she heard a sermon about grace and realized that she hadn't for years.

Mark's theology is still dangerous to women and in general - so long as women are not given space and encouragement to explore fully, and to appreciate as beautiful, who God has made them to be and until grace is the heart of every sermon and the hinge of Mars Hill's existence, I will continue in fervent prayer for Mark's heart and theology to be changed or for his platform here in Seattle to be removed entirely.

announcing manger art '06

Host:	Work of Art Ministries: Changing the world can only be a Work of Art
Location:	The Levi Room (Next to Post Office) 23302 56TH Ave W, Mountlake Ter, WA View Map
When:	Saturday, December 16, 6:00pm
Phone:	(206) 359-5723
Remember the story of kings following a single star to find a new king? Remember the extravagent gifts they brought? Remember what they hoped for in that king, in that baby named Jesus? It is again the time of year when we contemplate their trek, when we wonder what this king meant, who he was, what hope he represents. It is the time of the year that we sit by a warm fire and sing "Jesus Christ is born today!" But, what does it mean to say or sing, "Jesus Christ is born today"? It is a celebratory, hopeful thing to say or sing. Whether you believe Jesus to be God, the Savior of the world, a prophet, or a character who believed in love, healing the sick, feeding the poor, and longing, dreaming for a new world, to say "Jesus Christ is born today" means something more than Christmas trees, nativity sets, Santa Claus and cookies. Work of Art Ministries, in line with the full meaning of this phrase, invites you to celebrate the season with hope, and work towards a different world of health and peace! Manger Art is an annual Art Show to benefit the two-thirds world. This year the exhibit will be up and for sale for three months (December 16-March 10). We will be opening the exhibit with a gala event including live music from Deb Montgomery and Hollis Brown as well as live poetry including one of Seattle's top slam poets, Ryler Dustin and others from Bellingham's Lobster Manor Poetry Night. The suggested $6 donation, as well as all proceeds of items sold will go to benefit Invisible Children. There will be paintings, photography, mixed media, and quality artwork gifts (perfect for Christmas gifts!) to view, contemplate, and hopefully pruchase! We hope that you will join us for this chance to celebrate Christmas, the world, and the hope for peace, health, and happieness across the world that the baby Jesus came to transform and save!

a note to the boys of greenwood glen

a rant:

if you want to be a cheesey folk band with schtick and white snake-skin cowboy boots, that's ok. do your thing. i'm ok; you're ok; we're all ok. to each his own. etc. right?

just don't call yourself an "irish band" when your version of "that's another reason why i left Old Skibbereen" sounds like a stupid song from "a mighty wind." you are more a christopher guest than a chieftan.

on disappointment:
i've been told that i am a person who is often disappointed. i never let anyone know that they have disappointed me. i don't know why. i think it has something to do with them, then, having power over me. i really don't know.

when i am disappointed, though, i can't let go of the dream that has been dashed.

i was going to see an irish band tonight. i've known and looked to and counted on that fact all week. they would probably play the irish rover and get to heaven half an hour before the devil knows you are dead. i would sing along. maybe they would even sing wild rover and we would all wave our glasses in the air as we sang along and i dreampt that i was actually in ireland - in a place where life will be better - a place i dream of nearly every night - a place i've hidden many lonely or disappointing nights. i would eat clam chowder and have a bailey's coffee.

what happened? the band was not irish. they just weren't. they were infuriatingly un-irish. the bailey's coffee was horrible. there was no chowder. the fish and chips i ordered ended up making me feel sick. i could not picture being in ireland. nothing felt like home. it was not a dream.

but i clung. as my friends told me how miserable i looked, i clung: "maybe they will play the irish rover. even they can't make that un-irish." but they could and they would have if i didn't finally allow the dream to end and leave me unsatisfied and, once again, disappointed.

similarly, i just got an invitation to my 5 year college reunion. i'm a nanny and a failed youth minister. i have one graduate degree, but its nearly useless to me. i'm in school, and not doing much. i was going to graduate seminary at 23 and be in the mission field (ireland) for two years. i would be married and adopting my first child within a year. i have failed my dreams. more disappointment. always disappointment.

what will it mean to learn to live in disappointment? will i still have hope? will i cling to dying dreams? will i find something other than disappointment in a present that is nothing like the future i had dreamed it would be? will find fulfillment in being a nanny? will i be satisfied in my roles of friend, pastor, god-mother, unofficial aunt (the girl i nanny calls me "aunt becky"), social activist, dreamer, unpublished author, student, and yearning revolutionary?


tonight i am disappointed in the boys of greenwood glen and am finding fellowship and love with my friends...little lost and much gained.

correction

there are some things happening in Seattle, however, they have a local AIDS bent rather than a focus on the global pandemic. So...check these out and see what fits best.

I still hope to see you all (in the Seattle area) at Golden Gardens.

world aids day, seattle, 2006

so, what has broken my nearly 2 months of unintentional blog fasting? at this moment, i do not heart seattle. i am infact, based on a preliminary search for an AIDS day event to involve my church in, ashamed of her.

As far as I have been able to discover, there is nothing - no great out cry - no vigil - no demonstration - nothing!!! happening for World AIDS Day in Seattle. Two days later, there is a protest of Mars Hill Church, but nothing for AIDS Day.

I'm going to do something. Get a red candle - or two - and meet me at Golden Gardens at 7pm on Friday, December 1st. Invite friends, family, church member, ANYONE! EVERYONE!!! It won't be anything big, just a time for prayer, meditation, and hopefully sharing some information on what we, the people of my beloved city, can do.

This is not just some cause. It is the cause of our generation. If you think extreme poverty is the problem, you are wrong because you cannot treat extreme poverty without treating AIDS. Young farmers who could produce the food needed to feed their families are dying. Poverty cannot end amidst the AIDS pandemic.

In 2005, there were 2.8 million deaths resulting from AIDS. Of this 2.8 million, 2 million were in sub-saharan Africa. In sub-saharan Africa, 2.7 million children were newly affected with AIDS.

Every week, as many people die of AIDS as there were American casualties in the Vietnam War.

Women are in particular danger as they often do not have the right to decide whether or not to have sex and whom to have it with.

Stop for a minute, count: one-mississippi, two-mississippi, three-mississippi, four-mississippi, five-mississippi, six-mississippi, seven - stop. one person has been infected with AIDS.

6,000 children are orphaned by AIDS every day. 15.2 million children world wide have lost parents to AIDS and less than 10% are recieving aid from their governments.

Visit World Vision Austrailia's cite for some information on how AIDS affects sub-saharan Africa.
Take the World Vision AIDS test.
Contact the White House.
Become a World Vision AIDS prayer partner.
Take one minute and use your cell phone to sign a petition:
Just follow these simple text message instructions to "Make Your Mark for Children" affected by AIDS:

• Create a new text message with only the word “CHILD” in the message.
• Send that message to the number 77812.
• World Vision will confirm your petition signature and allow you to opt-in to periodic mobile alerts on World Vision HIV/AIDS relief efforts.
• If you are having trouble with the mobile petition, please add your signature to the online petition instead.

We cannot stand by.

so, i'm working on a new template, but blogspot is pissing me off...

hopefully there will be a new template by the end of the week.

killer coke

These are pictures from a protest of Coca-Cola in India.
Please check out Killer Coke and, please, please let your life be radically for the poor at least enough to choose a different soft drink!

Police Attack Coca-Cola Protest in Mehdiganj, India; Over 350 Arrested
"Towards the end of the rally, the marchers decided to march to the factory gates, about a hundred meters from the site of the rally. The armed police reacted violently and swiftly, with no warnings. The armed police launched a vicious lathi (baton) charge on all the marchers, and many women, in particular, became the target of male police officers who beat them incessantly. The police also chased after community members in the surrounding fields to beat them, many of whom were escaping the site of the violent police action. A Budhist monk was also attacked by the police, who showed no regard whatsoever for any one present in the area. The police attacks were ordered by Mr. Tahir Iqbal, ADM of police in Varanasi."
-Killer Coke's report on the protest

introducing bonhoeffer jr. (nickname: bono baby)

finally! i have a scooter!

dual relationships

Sitting at Green Lake Bar and Grill over Sunday Brunch, I talked with one of my friends about how strange it is that many of my relationships are gaining a new layer as I am taking on the role of pastor. True, my two closest friends who are a part of the church have already told me that I am pastor to them whether or not I am leading the church community they currently belong to – still, there is something new being born. I told her that one person is going to be my roommate, a member of my trinity of best friends, and a member of my church. “Woah, woah, woah! Way too many dual relationships there,” my alarmed friend frantically and authoritatively cautioned me, “You need to figure out a way to make that less of a dual relationship.” She proceeded to tell me that this is a dangerous relationship – that it is not nearly as safe as a counseling relationship. Isn’t this the goal though? Isn’t life much more dangerous than an hour in the office of your counselor? Isn’t a truly reciprocal relationship much more scary, often harmful, and always redemptive than one where one person is clearly set aside solely for the care of another?

Yet, there is another layer here. When you are pastor, it is one – very difficult – thing to not only care but be cared for in your suffering, sin, woundedness etc. It is another – from my vantage point – to be cared for in your suffering and woundedness for the people who call you pastor. How did Peter look into Jesus’ eyes? How did Peter receive his pain? How can Peter care for Jesus’ woundedness or even hear of it without being shamed for having hurt the one who care for and loved him – who guides him in his spiritual growth.

And it is the dual relationship that saves Jesus. Peter cannot not know that he has hurt Jesus. He cannot not know Jesus’ wounds. Peter cannot not know that Jesus has seen him, deeply, fully, and in all aspects of life – on good and bad days – in decisions for life and for death. In that dual relationship, when Jesus responds to Peter’s confession and broken heart, the fact that Jesus calls him Peter and not Simon begins to heal the shame already; the cowardly man is still the rock; he is still who he was created to be and called by Jesus to be. Jesus then asks the question to which he knows the answer: “Do you love me?” He asks it three times – one for every sign of lovelessness Peter sent Jesus’ way. Each time, he responds – “You, the one who I named Peter, who lived with and loved me, who denied me in my darkest hour, and who loves me deeply – you who are neither pristine nor shameful but who is one who lives abundantly and who can live abundantly with others – you, feed my sheep.” He says to him, “I know you – your light and your darkness – your struggle and your journeying. Knowing all this, I know you love me and I give to you the interdependent care of my precious children.”

And, as I am the penitant Peter - failing, denying, cowardly, passionately flailing and hitting others as I do - yet I am asked "feed my lambs." thus, feeble failing i when pricked to bleed, invite others into this gifted place at the feet and in the love of Jesus.

i know many of you have been coming here to look for an update on how sunday went. it was amazing and hopeful.

it was also painful and terrifying. i have so much emotion and fear and brokeness and exhaustion tied up in the hope and thrill of the experience that i just don't have words.

hopefully i will return to you with more. i feel the need for a retreat but lack the time.

out of town and out of context

first:
thanks to one and all (excepting gruber) for comments of encouragement in the face of myspace! we can take solice in knowing that one day all evil empires like myspace will end! (joking - but also not. i know of at least one marriage that had ended violently because of myspace and cannot imagine the number of lives of young women that have lost so much glory to sexualization at ages 10, 11, 12, 13 - so, it really is sort of evil)

second:
anyway, i'm off to a conference today, but had to leave you with these new quotes brought to you by trusty spies, bryan nixon and carin taylor.

"I've always wanted to be a bobble-head."
"Have you ever been thrown out of a bar? I have."
- From Sexual Disorders

"Especially at the beginning of the day, you don't know what pants I'm wearing."
"The Trotskyites wouldn't even take me."
"You've got cooties."
"Have you ever lusted and wanted to kill people? 'Uh-huh (yes).' Then we want you as our candidate."
"Anarchy, but no pink."
"I'm just going to wear bold shirts and marry someone who lives in a trailer."
"I would've had far more integrity and joy if I had picked up the whole doughnut."
"I was like, 'You have to take a test to get into law school? Bummer.'"
"I get to hallucinate on your behalf."
"I don't care about being incontinent."
"You might as well just have a hologram up here."
"You shouldn't be drinking cheap beer. There will be no cheap beer in the kingdom of God. Just get over Pabst Blue Ribbon."
"Frankly, I don't like God."
"I don't like anything I teach, and I know most of it's not true."
"I know people on crack who are happy."
"It's like putting me in a tutu. Does that help?"
- From Faith Hope and Love

Thanks Carin and Bryan - until next semester, this is the end of quotes out of context! Blessings as you spend the rest of the semester digesting and unpacking the depht that accompanied them - their context, if you will.

for the record:

i really really hate HATE myspace.

i invited my brother to my birthday by way of evite.

he doesn't do email anymore - just myspace.

so...if i want to communicate with him, i have to get a myspace.

i will not!

sometimes you give in, others you stand up and fight!

the seedling

as many of you know, my friend and neighbor, jen, and i are beginning a church/community on october 1st. actually, i'd say it's already started. i think it started for me on the night we gathered to pray for annie. regardless, check out the church cite.

i am a jeremiah...

I am a Jeremiah
Without the courage
To speak what I see
And the fire that keeps burning
Within my bones
Is slowly tearing you from me
And I’m caught between
Denying the message that keeps me weeping
And my hope
As I dream dreams for people
And show them what we can all live without
-Restoration Project

the previous post on my blog waas birthed in the frustration of answering the question: in what biblical narrative do i find what it has been for me to lead as a woman?

i wrote my answer - sort of but not really - today and thought I should share it with you:

These 400-500 words are heavey. Their process has been long, lonely, and tear-filled. They birthed a ranting blog entry before coming here to this page. My attempt to find the bridge from the questions to my place and my heart has left me sort of not answering the questions - but I'm as close as I can reach, maybe standing with my feet in the cold river I can't bare to cross as the icey water seems to penetrate my flesh and touch my bones with its icey fingers, letting me only sustain its current just long enough to get these rough 400-500, heavey words out - whether or not they meet the questions. So, here it is:
When I survey the long, arching stage of the biblical narrative, there is diversity of leadership. There is struggle; there is peace; there is pride; there is humility. There are those that I find myself in, those I admire, and some that I don't even really enjoy. When I stand before the stage, holding auditions for what narrative I find my leadership reflect in, few get call-backs and most of these come from the latter half of the Hebrew Bible. From this group of twelve or maybe fourteen, I have to choose just one. The decision is easy though: Jeremiah. Granted, this choice means that I am lonely, struggling, chastised, dreaming of a world where the poor and orphans are cared for, but quite certian this will not happen and that my search for a radical life will ultimately lead to radical isolation. Still, in Jeremiah, I have found my compatriot.
Then, another criteria is added: I am now looking for someone who reflects what it has been for me to lead as a woman. Here, everyone who made it to call back in this audition is sent home, not meeting the qualifications. I have to start auditions over and invite all those narratives of women leading back to the stage. As they come, the stage looks rather empty. I look deep into the faces and characters I see the faces of women who have seen Jesus resurrected but no one believes them. I can find myself in that, but something is missing. I see one woman who led through hospitality, serving her husband the king and leading to the salvation of her people. I look up to her and enjoy hospitality, but it's not a match. I see the Samaritan woman, the first missionary, and am absolutely inspired by the beautiful face of her narrative, but don't see myself. I see an unmarried, pregnant teen who brought forth and raised the very son of God. I weep as Iook into her worn but glad eyes, but this is not my story. As I come to the end of the line of auditioners, I begin to ask, where is the stuggling prophetess? Where is the female version of Jeremiah - surely, she must be even more lonely than he, but she must be here, somewhere. Then I realize that she is not here. She was never recorded in the seemingly diverse biblical narrative aresenal. I realize then and there that that encredibly lonely woman was me. Here I stand, as the coldness of the river begins to remind me that I cannot bare to remain in this question, realizing that the lonely call to a radical, prophetic life of loving the poor and subverting the Roman Empire we call America, is not only lonely as what it is, but it is lonely as a woman called to lead.
Quickly, I step out of the icey river and towell my ankles off. I put on three or four pairs of wool socks by watching the video my roommate rented last night and watched without me as I attempted to answer these questions, to regain some sense of heat. I step away and struggle to forget the cold of the river and the loneliness of that empty stage and under-attended audition, but as tears continue to pelt my cold cheeks, I know I will never forget that cold or that loneliness because this is the cold and loneliness that God has called me to and all I have left to hope is that God will be enough company, that I can find myself, as a woman, in God, and that just maybe, I'll find someone else to stand in these cold waters with me.
In the end, these heavy words are actually near 800 (I apologize for my verbosity). These 800 miss the question, but they are still the only answer I have to give. Maybe some day I'll find the question they match, but for now, I leave them with you to take as you will.